Habeo papam
by RedHatMeg
Summary: Just short fic about the Karol Wojtyła's election for the pope, since it's 38th Anniversary of this evening.


**Hi, guys! Today is the anniversary of John Paul Second election, so I thought I can write something and post here. It was the great day for Poland, one of the most important days in our history and everybody were really happy with Wojtyła's election. So here's some occasional fic for it. This is how I imagine Feliks' reaction on this news.**

**Some things might be innaccurate (for example this Italian translation), but i put it to my own comfort. Nevermind. Just enjoy this fic. The title means: _I have a pope_ in Latin.**

**Habeo papam**

Feliks turned on the TV. It was time for the news, but he just wanted to sit on his chair and relax. The TV screen was showing the crowd gathered on the Saint Peter's Square. A lot of nameless people from all around the world. Some were just standing on their spots, others were walking around impatiently. Poland sighed. So they still didn't choose the pope? He could stay on this channel and wait as well as doing any other things. He was sure that it probably will be another Italian, maybe Frenchman or German, because it also happened few times, but somewhere deep inside his heart was curiosity. How this new pope will be looking alike? Will he be extreme conservative? Or maybe someone as nice as last pope John Paul I.

Suddenly camera showed the thin, long chimney on the Sistine Chapel's roof, and the white smoke that was going out from it. This view meant only one thing: the pope had been chosen. Once again the view of people, then Feliks saw the entrance to the main balcony and moving curtains. The crests of Vatican guardians' pikes, led by banner with Vatican's yellow and white flag, marched slowly. One last zoom on people and journalists, and quick returning to the balcony. Four persons appeared – all of them were cardinals. The crowd silenced. Poland's heart started to pounding quickly, when one of the cardinals started to announce in Latin:

"_Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum…_" He had to cut the sentence, because the crowd started to cheer loudly. He waited few seconds and then continued with smile: "…_habemus papam!_"

This time cheers were louder. Camera showed the people, who were waving the scarves of many colors, but the most frequent was orange and white color.

"_Eminentissimum ac reverendissimum Dominum…_" The cardinal hung his voice. The tension started to increase, when he gone on with the announcement: "_Dominum Carolum_."

That's weird, Poland thought. Was he heard the name Karol? Nah, it can't be. He just misheard himself from all this nervousness. So Feliks returned to watching the news.

"_Sanctæ Romanæ Ecclesiæ Cardinalem Wojtyła._" The cardinal said slowly and emphatically.

Feliks' eyes snapped open with disbelief. Wojtyła? Wojtyła? _Wojtyła_? This name was spinning inside his mind. First thought he had, was that it's too beautiful to be true. Karol Wojtyła, the cardinal of Cracow, _the Pole_, to be pope?! From all candidates for this graceful office… he?

But soon the new pope appeared. Smiling old man with white skull-cap and in crimson red robe. He widened his arms in the friendly gesture to the crowd before him, who were greeting him with applause and enthusiastic screams. After few seconds he finally spoke. Not in Latin like other popes during whole those centuries, but in Italian. Still Feliks could understand, what he was saying, thanks to the translator from Polish television.

"I'm coming from the far country, from far country, but still the close one through the connection in Christian faith and tradition…"

From far country… Poland. The pope from Poland. From little, forgotten, unnoticed and abused Poland. From all cardinals he – Karol Wojtyła… Feliks still couldn't believe it. He felt like he was going to cry from happiness. Suddenly disbelief evaluated into the euphoria and Poland jumped rapidly from his chair and screamed:

"I have a pope! I have a pope! _I_ have _**a pope**_!"

He ran away from his flat, exclaiming those news all over the stairway, and then all over the avenues of his capital. His neighbors also were coming out and screaming it with ecstasy. Soon the streets were full of happy people, who were running around, hugging each other and jumping, just like Polish representation had won in the World Cup. Indeed they won, but something even more valuable then World Cup.

"We have a pope! We have a pope!"

Feliks could feel their joy. It was his joy as well. This day was one of the happiest day in his long life. When everything around him was sad, colorless and painful, this cheerful man, his man, appeared in the Vatican's balcony and made him feel so proud from himself. This pride and sudden wave of unknown power were growing with every minute. When in 966 he was baptized, he didn't expected that something like that will ever happen. If Pole can be pope, everything is possible. Even the wining of this fight with communism. He forgot about the cold of this beautiful October night and focused on this wonderful thought that from now on the Pole – not Italian, German or Frenchman, but Pole – will be the head of whole Catholic Church. Tears of happiness was falling down his cheeks, when he clenched his fists, threw them up to the dark sky and screamed with all might of his lungs:

"_I HAVE A POPE!_"

* * *

**Here's the translation of this Latin announcement:**

_I announce to you a great joy:  
We have a Pope!  
The most eminent and most reverend Lord,  
Lord Karol,  
Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church Wojtyła._


End file.
